When They Touch Me Novels & Stories

Devon asked. “Ask her,” Jake said. Devon looked at me. “Can I touch you, Emma?” “Yes,” I breathed. He knelt in front of me. His hand slid up my thigh. Then his fingers were there, touching me, exploring me. “So fucking wet,” he said. Jake’s hand moved to my other breast. Devon’s fingers pushed inside me. Two guys touching me at once. I moaned. “That’s it,” Jake encouraged. “Let them hear how good it feels.”

She clawed at the ground, pulled herself toward me, hand finally landing on mine. Severing the last connection we both had to our power the moment we touched. ***

I don’t want to imagine the thoughts passing between them as they register what a dirty girl I really am. My voice is a breath when it comes out, so quiet it sounds like I’m begging. Maybe I am. “Touch me…” And they do. Oh my God, they really do.

In this intimate act, they not only care for me but also cleanse themselves, symbolizing the profound bond we share. Afterward, they wrap me in a soft towel, their touch sending waves of pleasure through my sensitive skin. Their hands move with a delicate precision, rubbing away any remaining moisture and leaving me feeling pampered and cherished. As I revel in their tender care, soft moans of delight escape my lips, a testament to the pleasure their touch brings.

“Touch me.” I shiver at the first flick of my boobs. His hands wander to my belly, tickles my belly button and my legs shake. With Calum, it’s different. His touches are dependent on the occasion. Right now, it’s curious, innocent and comforting, not erotic. My fingers loop around the waistband of my shorts but he stops me from tearing it off. “Is it okay?” I ask and he nods. “Okay.”

My voice was ice. "If a single one of these photos sees print, I will burn the newspaper that ran it to the ground." The quiet authority in my voice froze every reporter in the room. Tears streamed down Leo’s face. He clutched his wounded hand. "Mama, it hurts so much…" I frantically tried to tear open his glove. The glass shards dug deeper, leaving horrific wounds in his palm. I couldn't imagine the agony he felt with every punch. Three years of patience. Three years of compromise. Three years of trust.

“That feels so good…” He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes dark. “You are so beautiful when you moan my name like that.” His hands slid under my sweater, palms warm against my skin. “Can I touch you, Stella? I need to feel you.” “Yes,” I whispered. “Please touch me.” He kissed me again, deep and possessive, while his hands explored. He cupped my breasts through my bra, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they hardened. “I want to taste these,” he said, voice rough. “Is that okay?”

A spark of emotion lit up his face as he passed a glance at me. "When the bond snaps, it echoes. You can hear it like a clap of thunder during a storm. And then sparks, no, that's too light of a word, electricity holds your body captive. It doesn't hurt or anything. It feels amazing like a rush of power stroking every body part. All you want to do after the first touch is feel more of that unfiltered pleasure. Touching them becomes a drug and you become the addict whose fingers itch to get your hands on your next fix."

Too close for Daylen to feel his breath on his skin but not close enough for their bodies to touch. "Are you so scared to be touched by me?" Syvan asked. Daylen locked eyes with him. Daylen didn't know what it was Syvan's eyes. It looked like disappointment and a hint of sadness. Daylen's heart squeezed in pain. His resistance caused Syvan to be sad and in turn that made Daylen sad. His feelings affected the magic oozing out of his hands stopping the force keeping Syvan in the air.